Also:

Hey, how do you feel after your St. Patricks’ Day celebration? Fun night? Have a few beers? Don’t feel bad. St. Patrick’s Day is the one holiday of the year, along with New Year’s Eve, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and four others, where it’s not only OK to drink, it’s expected. Encouraged. Celebrated! It’s not your fault that the freaking thing took place on a Monday. Whoever assigned that this year should be fired.

Fortunately, our cats are at the ready to help us recover from our debauched and boozy night. Here’s how they’re helping us recover:

Waking us at 3 a.m. to help us get a fresh start on the day.

Meowing tenderly when we put the pillow over our heads.

Continuing to meow when we ask them to please stop meowing.

Just MEOWING and MEOWING and MEOWING.

Running into the bathroom to check on us after we look into the mirror and scream.

Taking a steam bath as we spend 45 minutes standing motionless under a hot shower.

Looking the other way as we crumple to the floor.

Licking our toes when we crawl over to the toilet.

Coughing up a wet hairball in solidarity — we’re all in this morning-horrorshow together, you see.

Falling asleep on our laps and we sit on the bed and stare at the wall for 20 minutes, wheezing.

Following us to the kitchen by playfully circling through our legs — whoops, there we go crashing to the floor. My God, it’s so early.

Meowing louder than ever before, it’s like a jackhammer.

Just MEOWING and MEOWING and MEOWING.

Encouraging us to at least go in to work very late — perhaps not at all?

Sitting on our phones, preventing us from seeing who or what we texted last night.

Licking the ice cream off our shoes — when did the ice cream happen?

Introducing us to the stranger sleeping on our couch.

Tending to the stranger’s bathroom ministrations and ushering them out the door.

Jumping on the kitchen counter to help jog our memory about why exactly our shoes are in the microwave.

Encouraging us to lie down on the couch and watch TV.

Sitting on our chests, to keep us there.

Purring loudly — nobody’s going anywhere till this is over, pal.

Not waking us when we doze off.

Pretending there is nothing wrong when we wake up three hours later, screaming.

Heading off to the litter box when we call our boss — no reason to be nosey.

Getting back on our chests when we get back on the couch.

Intensely sniffing our torsos, alerting us to the presence of … something evil.

Taking another steam bath as we take another shower.

Discouraging us from choosing a little hair of the dog — this ain’t a day for dogs.

Suggesting catnip, or the human equivalent thereof?

Stop it, you’re about to get us arrested.

Walking over to the cat bowl and suggesting dinnertime, even though it’s only 2 p.m.

Sitting next to the cat bowl and suggesting dinnertime, even though it’s only 2:03 p.m.

Sitting on your head and suggesting dinnertime, even though it’s only 2:07 p.m.

Ah hell, let’s order a pizza.

Sitting on our chest as we watch an episode of House Hunters International.

And then four more — God, we love that show.

Sitting on our phones again to stop our boss from texting — and he eventually stops!

Licking our nose when we vow to go easy on the weekday holidays from here on out.